


bloody portobello and lemon meringue

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [13]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, WTNV AU, ish, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Newton Geiszler always comes to the Shatterdome with a date. Today, though, he's alone. Hermann investigates.





	bloody portobello and lemon meringue

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon prompt: "From the prompt list: Newmann + You always bring in your dates to the restaurant i wait at and now all of a sudden you’re here alone…you okay there mate?"

As long as Hermann’s been a waiter at the Shatterdome—three years, two months, and thirteen days, not that he’s counting—he’s observed the regulars. Old Woman Josie always comes in on the third Thursday of the month, after her monthly bowling games, the Man in the Tan Jacket Hermann can never remember the face of comes in only on full moons, and Newton Geiszler, professor at the University of What It Is, and part-time radio host, always brings his dates to the Shatterdome.

It’s just how things are—like the omnipresent Sheriff’s Secret Police members, the lights above Arby’s, or the existence of the angels, who do  _not_  exist, and only tell lies. It’s a predictable thing—and rarely is anything in this life predictable.

So, when Newt turns up on Saturday by himself and orders a portabello mushroom, raw and bloody, voice listless, Hermann is, naturally, surprised. Not many thing surprise him, or have surprised him, or probably will surprise him, but this does.

The blankness of Newt’s eyes surprises him, and so, he declines Chuck’s gracious offer to have one of the buzzing shadow people oversee Newt, and takes the task on himself. “Your portobello mushroom,” he announces, placing it in front of the scientist, and slides into the seat opposite him. Newt says nothing, picking at the dish, which lets out a blood-curdling wail and tries, in vain, to escape the bowl.

“Are you alright?” Hermann questions. Newt stares at him for a moment, seemingly surprised.

“Are you—are you talking to  _me?_ ” he asks, fork stilling, and Hermann nods. “Why?”

“Well, it’s company policy that our guests are to have the best experience possible,” Hermann replies. “Also, you’re here alone.”

Newt tips his head quizzically. “…yeah,” he says, slowly, “what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well,” Hermann says, and clears his throat, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “You only ever come here if you have a date—I was simply wondering if you were alright.”

Newt stares at him again, and Hermann tries to not fidget in his commandeered chair. Finally, he says, “That’s…kind of you.” Hermann fixes his gaze on the table-cloth and fiddles with the head of his cane. The mushroom lets out a chocked gasp and slides down into the blood sauce with a gurgle.

“Er,” Hermann says, uncertain of what to say.

Newt sighs. “You’re right, I…I’m not doing to great, honestly—I did have a date, actually. Or, at least, I thought I did. It turns out it was just a dare to see how long he could string me along for.” He shrugs. “And, really, I should’ve expected it—no one’s usually that into me unless they have an ulterior motive.”

The tattoos of monsters on his arms, usually vibrant and animated, are monochrome and hiding beneath his shirt. Hermann considers it for a moment. “Well,” he says, “your date may have—wrongly—decided you’re worth less than him, but how about I make it up to you with a slice of lemon-meringue pie. On the house,” he offers. “Help cheer you up, right?”

Newt gapes at him. “You—you’d really do that for me?” he asks, and Hermann nods.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and makes his way back to the kitchens. Mako catches his eye as he cuts a slice of pie and tops it with a perfect dollop of cream, and winks. Hermann’s cheeks pale as blood rushes to his cheeks, tinting the already pale skin silver.

“Here you are,” he says, setting the plate in front of Newt, attempting to not act like a flustered idiot. Newt smiles, perfectly, and Hermann pales even further.

Newt cuts off a piece and spears it with the fork, holding it out to Hermann. “Here,” he says, “have a piece—it’s the least I can do to repay you.”

“Oh that’s—that’s really n—not necessary,” Hermann stammers, but Newt pushes the fork at him, insistent, and Hermann gives in, eating the proffered piece.

Newt grins at him, takes a bite himself, and says, “So, any chance we could do this again?”

“Like a—a date?” Hermann squeaks.

Newt’s lips twitch. “Yeah, like a date.”

Hermann tries not to faint on the spot. “That sounds—that sounds great,” he stutters, and turns a a faint shade of silver when Newt reaches out to twine their hands together under the table.


End file.
